<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>All I've Ever Been by xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260710">All I've Ever Been</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/pseuds/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx'>xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Is A Mixtape [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but just a little bit of angst-- mostly pining tbh), (eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Pining, Shirbert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:41:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/pseuds/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by-- a chance that you might love me too...” </p><p>OR</p><p>Gilbert entertains the fleeting notion that perhaps going away for university will help him get over his feelings for Anne. Instead, they find themselves growing closer than ever before-- but will it be too late by the time he finally plucks up the courage to tell Anne exactly how he feels about her? [part of a series, but can definitely be read as a stand alone!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe &amp; Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Is A Mixtape [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>272</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look. I know I have no business starting anything new when I’m still trying to finish up my Hogwarts AU, but I sat down to work on chapter 3 and then this poured out instead. So please enjoy this brief interlude!</p><p>Title and part of the concept for this story inspired by "You Don't Know Me," originally written by Cindy Walker for Eddy Arnold. It's been recorded quite a few times by a number of artists over the years, but I'm particularly fond of Jann Arden's cover, which is what I listened to while writing this. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes, Gilbert worries over how willingly he gives Anne so much leeway to live rent-free in his mind. It’s a miracle, really, that there are still parts of his brain left over to focus on other things like family, and work, and school, when the idea of Anne is so-all consuming.</p><p>And maybe he could have lived with it. The knowledge that he might never be able to push thoughts of her completely out of his mind, were it not for the way she’d swooped down from his head and taken up just as much space inside of his chest as well. How she’d (unknowingly) wasted no time in settling in and spreading herself out all over in there— making a home out of his heart when it had felt like an empty room for far too long following the passing of his father.</p><p>Sometimes Gilbert worries he’s run out of space to hold her. That one day very soon his heart will crack open because there’s just <em>too much</em> of Anne in there. Because every time he thinks there’s no possible way he could love her any more than he already does, she just has to go and prove him wrong. Stretching his heart out just a little bit wider than it already is as if to stubbornly say, <em>“See? I told you so.”</em></p><p>It’s an irrational fear and he knows it.</p><p>He’s read about the heart and all of its ventricles to the point of exhaustion. But for as much as medicine and science can explain, Gilbert’s well aware that there’s still so much the world doesn’t know yet— still so much left to learn and discover. And so he resigns himself to the notion that science and biology probably won’t ever be able to explain the wonder that is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Resigns himself to the reality that science and biology may never be able to explain away the ache and longing he feels in his chest, spurred on by how desperately he longs to <em>be with</em> <em>her. </em>To love her in a way that might come close to doing justice to how all-consuming she is. To love her with all he's ever been, everything he is, everything he will be….If only Anne would <em>let him</em>…if only Anne would <em>love him back</em>— then maybe he’d be able to cope.</p><p>Anne is whip-smart and so incredibly observant to the point where sometimes it feels as if she knows what he’s feeling before even Gilbert does himself. But for as much as she sees every emotion that crosses his expressive face, <em>love</em> is the only one that evades her. <em>Love</em> is the only one, that for some incomprehensible reason, Anne can’t quite place.</p><p>Maybe it’s because Anne’s always been too blinded by the notion that she’s not meant for a grand romance the likes of which she gobbles up in books, and music, and movies. Gilbert’s always found the idea of this to be ridiculous, but he understands its an idea Anne has been spoon-feeding herself for so long, she’s come to accept it as fact rather than for what it is: pure, unadulterated fiction.</p><p>Or maybe it’s simply that she’s too terrified to come to terms with the fact that Gilbert has been more or less head over heels in love with her his whole life.</p><p>He thinks he could understand the latter. Sometimes Gilbert’s terrified too, though all his fears seem to revolve around the idea of losing Anne forever. Too often, he finds himself plagued with the fear that an ill-timed confession on his part might drive Anne away if she doesn’t feel the same way. He can live with the lot of it— the ache…the longing…the pain of unrequited love….but he doesn’t think he can live in a world without Anne in it. And maybe that’s why Gilbert has kept quiet for so long. Because Anne’s friendship and the way it colors his world is far better than a world that’s washed out and void of her vibrancy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There are three thoughts that cross his mind the moment Gilbert gets a letter from University of Toronto informing him that he’s been accepted into their medical program:</p><p>The first is utter elation over the realization that he’d earned a spot at his top choice of school.</p><p>The second is the thrill of knowing that a spot in U of T’s medical program meant he was one step closer to fulfilling his dream of becoming a doctor.</p><p>The third comes in the form of a quiet voice that whispers to him from the corner of his mind. A quiet voice that wonders if perhaps going away to school instead of sticking close to home would do him a world of good— if only because it meant he’d be forced to put some much needed distance between himself and a certain freckle-faced redhead.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The physical distance going away for university thrusts upon him works the way Gilbert had secretly been hoping it would…for a time. He’s so busy getting settled in to life in a brand new city. Between moving in to his new room and getting set up for his classes, Gilbert hardly has time to think of anything (or <em>anyone</em>) else.</p><p>And then, slowly, as he slips into a newfound routine, he starts to see her— bits and pieces of Anne hiding in the world around him like breadcrumbs left behind for him to find and follow. He sees the fiery color of her hair in the way the maple trees on campus are already beginning to turn from a lush green to a striking crimson…he sees the grayish blue hue of her wide-eyed gaze on the horizon, peeking out between the clouds on overcast mornings…he sees her freckles in the speckled table tops of the desks in all of his classes-- the ones he stares at when he spaces out during lectures, unable to stop himself from searching their surfaces for the patterns he knows are strewn across her face, and her arms, and the slope of her neck. Patterns in varying shades of brown strewn across the creamy expanse of her skin that that his own eyes have long since memorized…</p><p>She's everywhere and nowhere all at once, and she creeps back into his mind and into his heart so slowly, it’s as if Anne had never left to begin with. And Gilbert lets her because deep down, he knows it’s where she belongs.</p><p>And then, she calls him one night out of the blue. Gilbert’s just about to close his laptop for the night when the computer chirps back at him and tells him he’s got an incoming FaceTime call from Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. He fumbles for a moment with the screen, pushing it back up forcefully before accepting the request.</p><p>It takes a minute, but then Anne’s lovely face pops up and shines back at him from his computer screen, red hair glowing like a bright flame where the light of her desk lamp bathes it in a soft yellow glow. And Gilbert’s heart gives an all-too familiar lurch as it tends to do whenever it reminds him that he’s irrevocably in love with her.</p><p>“Apparently college hasn’t changed the fact that I’m still dreadful at math— guess I’ll finally have to stop blaming my inability to grasp the concepts on Mr. Phillips and his unimaginative teaching skills,” Anne jokes after they spend a few moments catching up on life at university.</p><p>Gilbert laughs heartily at the mention of their dreadful high school math teacher. “Does this mean you’re finally going to admit defeat and concede that I beat you on the final fair and square?”</p><p>“Only if you promise to help me study for this test— I can’t make heads or tails of this sine/cosine business-- and I refuse to fail the first exam of the year!” Anne huffs before suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. “That is…if you have time? It’s okay if you don’t— or if you’re too busy— it’s just…you’re the only one who’s ever been able to make it all make sense.”</p><p>Gilbert’s quick to put Anne out of her misery, agreeing to help her because how could he not?</p><p>In the end, just before they hang up, he finds himself offering to continue serving as her makeshift calculus tutor. Anne readily agrees, offering to edit any english papers Gilbert might want someone to give a second opinion on in return for his generosity. Together, they set up a standing Thursday night study session call. And as Gilbert climbs in to bed later that night, eyes bleary, but heart feeling incredibly full, he can’t help but find a bit of amusement in the fact that he’d come to university thinking that time away might help him fall out of love with Anne, only to find himself readily agreeing to spend more time with her despite the distance between them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I did it again,” Anne confesses late one night, their homework long since forgotten, but neither wanting to hang up quite just yet.</p><p>They've been sticking to their weekly virtual study date for a while now, though if Gilbert's being honest, the work to sidebar chatter ratio tends to skew a bit further toward the latter. Sometimes Anne calls him on a rare Tuesday, too, after she’s finished her shift at a local coffee shop in town. He finds too much joy in seeing the way her face lights up when the call eventually connects during these outliers-- as though she’d been expecting for Gilbert to dismiss her FaceTime request because it hadn't come on a Thursday night. They pretend to study together for a bit whenever she calls on any other weekday regardless, before Anne eventually derails the conversation over to something far less pressing than their looming assignments.</p><p>And every time she does, Gilbert does his best not to look too pleased. Instead, he pretends he doesn’t notice that she’s called under the pretense of asking him a fairly simple homework question, when in reality, Anne’s really bursting at the seams to tell him about something silly that happened at work, or to talk about something she read that she happened to find particularly interesting. It thrills him to no end-- the knowledge that Anne enjoys his company as much as he's always enjoyed hers.</p><p>“Did what again?” Gilbert asks through a full-body stretch before deciding to take his laptop over to his bed instead. If they're not going to study any longer, he may as well get more comfortable.</p><p>“Started crying while listening to a song I’ve heard a million times over."</p><p>Gilbert tries to hold back the good-natured chuckle threatening to leave his lips. In truth, he’d always found this specific little Anne-ism— the one where she cries over a particularly beautiful piece of poetry, or art, or music— to be quite endearing. He knows Anne won’t ever elaborate much further if he laughs at her now though, and he’s incredibly curious to know what it was that moved her to tears this time, so he holds it in.</p><p>“Should I be worried that this is a regular occurrence— d’you think there’s something wrong with me, doctor?”</p><p>She’s only joking, but something about Anne asking him for medical advice— even for something as non-threatening as getting a bit weepy over music— makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.</p><p>“I’m going to need more details before I make my diagnosis,” he says playing along. “Namely, where you were when it happened, and what it was that you were listening to.”</p><p>“On the bus…” Anne admits after a moment, cheeks flushing at the memory.</p><p>“Doesn’t everyone cry on public transportation at some point in their lives?” Gilbert asks, getting a bit more comfortable against his pillows.</p><p>“Isn’t that just a big city thing? Like in New York— I suppose it can’t be helped…there’s not enough space to have a good cry alone out in public,” Anne says thoughtfully. “I imagine it’d be quite romantic to have a good cry in a big city. Not so much in Charlottetown though— the bus driver kept looking at me through his rearview mirror like I’d sprouted an extra head or something.”</p><p>Gilbert laughs for real this time, thinking that it’s so like Anne to find something like crying on the subway to be ever so romantical.</p><p>“So what was it that brought on the water works?”</p><p>“‘Are You Lonesome Tonight”— you know, that Elvis song?” Anne replies.</p><p>She takes a cue from Gilbert and moves to her own bed, setting her own laptop on the mattress before lying down on her side to get more comfortable.</p><p>“I know it well," he nods.</p><p>“You do?” Anne asks, the slight surprise apparent in her voice.</p><p>“Anne…I drove you to school every day for two years after I got my license— I remember all of your music phases, in part due to the way you always hogged the aux chord,” Gilbert goads. “Elvis was before the Beach Boys but after Huey Lewis.”</p><p>“So I like the classics!” Anne says defensively. “Plus, you never complained back then, so you can’t very well start now!”</p><p>“Don’t be mad— I’m not <em>really</em> teasing— you’re very well rounded in your music tastes,” Gilbert says, choosing his words carefully as Anne grumbles back at him on his computer screen. “But back to Elvis…”</p><p>Anne looks lost in thought and for a moment Gilbert wonders if maybe she won’t humor his thirst to know more, but then she speaks again, voice turned soft and gravelly— a byproduct of her sleepy state that makes the skin on Gilbert’s arms pebble in turn.</p><p>“You know that part about the chairs in the parlor and the doorstep? I can’t remember how many times I’ve listened to that song….but the weight of the words…it just never<em> really</em> sunk in before— the heartache…and the longing…” Anne says trailing off. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like. To love someone so much…but never know if they’re just as haunted by you as you are by them…"</p><p>The idea of Anne's words feel like a punch to the gut, hitting all too close to home despite the fact that he'd always been under the impression that this particular Elvis song was more of a break-up ballad.  Much like the way she sees the rest of the world around her though, Anne has gone and turned a song Gilbert knew well, but had never paid much attention to, completely on its head. He's not breaking up with her, but his love for her haunts him like a ghost all the same.</p><p>"I imagine it'd feel all-consuming," Gilbert says, swallowing thickly, wondering if Anne will pick up on his words for the confession they are.</p><p>“I imagine you’d be right,” Anne whispers back. “So, what’s the verdict Doctor Blythe? Will I live? Is there anything wrong with me?”</p><p>“Prognosis looks favorable. You'll live-- the only thing that’s wrong with you is that it seems as though you care too much,” Gilbert says through a smile, still playing along to humor her. “There’s no cure for that I’m afraid— but even if there were, I wouldn’t prescribe it.”</p><p>“Sometimes I wonder if life would be easier if I cared a little bit less," she says, as though she's sharing a deeply rooted secret-- something she might not otherwise admit to in the light of day, but feels safe to vocalize in the quiet darkness of her room.</p><p>“For what it’s worth…someone once told me that caring deeply will always be the right thing,” he says softly.</p><p>“Who said that?” Anne asks sleepily.</p><p>“You did.”</p><p>She says nothing, but a slow and lazy smile pulls across her face. It draws one from Gilbert in turn as they lie in comfortable silence— him in Toronto, and Anne on the other end of their video call, one hour ahead, and nearly 1,700 miles away in Charlottetown.</p><p>“What do you suppose happened to them— the people in the song?” She asks eyelids beginning to droop. “Do you suppose he told her it didn’t matter?”</p><p>“What didn’t matter?” Gilbert asks through a yawn.</p><p>“That whatever happened doesn’t matter as long as she still loves him...because he still loves her, too.” she clarifies, yawning in turn.</p><p>“I think sometimes it’s easier to stay quiet than to risk getting your heart broken…" Gilbert says quietly. “Or to risk breaking the other person’s heart when they realize they can’t give you what you’re asking for.”</p><p>The weight of the conversation suddenly feels like too much, so Gilbert lets his own eyes rest for a moment behind closed eyelids as he attempts to get a grip on his feelings.He gets lost for a moment in the faint imprint of Anne he sees when he shuts his eyes, no doubt a result of having spent far too many hours staring at a brightly lit screen in his poorly lit room. He doesn't need a trick of the light to see her though. Sometimes it feels as though she's all he sees whenever he closes his eyes anyway.</p><p>“I hope he told her…” Anne murmurs.</p><p>Gilbert keeps his eyes closed and lets her gentle voice wash over him.</p><p>“If you love someone…you should tell them…" she continues. "No matter the outcome….”</p><p>He feels his pulse speed up at Anne's words, a rush of butterflies suddenly swarming in his stomach.</p><p>"Anne..." he breathes out, wondering if she's picking up on the torture laced around the edges of his voice as her last declaration echoes between his ears.</p><p>If Gilbert had been waiting for a sign from the universe that he should unburden his heart and tell Anne the truth of his feelings, then surely this was it. It can't possibly get more direct than the last words Anne had just uttered mere moments ago.</p><p>But Anne doesn't respond when he says her name, and when Gilbert snaps his eyes open its only to find she's fallen asleep on the other end of their call.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I love you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He whispers it quietly into the darkness of his empty room as his eyes drink in the sight of how peaceful Anne looks when she sleeps. It’s the first time he's ever let his mouth form the words he's felt for so long in his heart, and it feels so right, Gilbert itches to say it again-- but <em>louder.</em></p><p>Not tonight though. Tonight, he'll let her sleep.</p><p><em>Soon though-- I'll tell her soon... </em>it's the last thought he has before he lets sleep take him too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There are two things Gilbert notices when he wakes up the next morning, still in yesterday’s clothes, now rumpled from the night he spent lying in them:</p><p>The first is that his laptop is in desperate need of a charge, the battery having died at some point in the night when he'd forgotten to turn it off and plug it in.</p><p>The second is a rare text message from Anne. She's sent over a poorly lit photo and Gilbert has to rub the sleep out from his eyes and turn the brightness all the way up on his phone screen before he realizes it's a grainy photo of himself.</p><p>It's not the photo that sends his heart aflutter though, but the message Anne has paired with it:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because I have no self-control, this fic has now been bumped up to 3 chapters. Also y'all get ALL of the video chat vignettes (because I couldn't pick just one) as these two dorks grow closer and closer together.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Gilbert stares at Anne’s text long and hard.</p><p>Reads it over a dozen times at various paces. He reads it to himself and tries to imagine what the words would sound like coming from Anne’s lips. He mutters it aloud for good measure, as though maybe giving voice to the six words that have damn near ended him will unlock a secret message he might have glossed over the first time around.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>His brain is riddled with questions he can’t answer.</p><p>Is she teasing? Does she really mean it? Does she think he looks cute <em>all</em> the time? Does he even <em>want</em> to be thought of as cute? Or is that pushing him further into the friend zone, and thus further away from any future romantic possibilities the universe might have in store for him and one, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.</p><p>Gilbert’s never felt particularly nervous around girls, but none have ever compared to Anne, who seems to be in a league all on her own. And no one has ever left him feeling so desperately unhinged.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He sneaks glances at his phone throughout the day— just to check. Just to be sure it hadn’t all been some glorious dream that had left him feeling giddy for far too long after. Or a particularly beautiful hallucination conjured up by his brain in an effort to placate his aching heart if only for a brief moment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He spends far too long studying the way she’s typed it out.</p><p>He wonders if there’s a reason why Anne hadn’t bothered to capitalized the beginning of her sentence, or if it was merely an accident— a slip of fingers in her haste to text him before rushing off to her first class of the morning. He spends far too long staring at the period at the end of “sleep.” Wonders if there’s a hidden meaning behind her punctuation use at the end, or if it’s merely that Anne’s always been a stickler for good grammar.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you look cute when you sleep.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Six simple words that— coupled with the eight it takes to make up “<em>if you love someone, you should tell them,</em>”— keep Gilbert going when the waiting game threatens to do him in…</p><p>The waiting, he quickly realizes, turns out to be the worst part— especially after Gilbert decides he’s finally going to tell Anne that he loves her.</p><p>It almost slips out a dozen times during their FaceTime calls in moments when he’s least expecting it. Like when Anne wrinkles her nose in disapproval over something that happened at work that week…or when she gets that little crease between her eyebrows when she’s struggling on a math problem…or when she bites her bottom lip in moments when she’s deep in contemplation, teeth digging so furiously into the supple flesh he worries she might draw blood. Tiny little ticks, and quirks, and habits that only add fuel to the fire when it comes to reminding Gilbert that there’s not a single part about her that he <em>doesn’t</em> love. And if he thought his heart was dangerously close to cracking open before, it’s nothing compared to the way it threatens to split in two now that he’s <em>so close</em> to telling her exactly how he feels. <em>So close</em> to betting on himself, rolling the dice, and letting the chips fall where they may.</p><p>Gilbert has decided to wait though— just a bit longer— if he’s going to do it, he wants to do it right. If he’s going to spill the contents of his heart out to her, he wants to do it in person. Because it’s what Anne deserves— because it’s what they <em>both </em>deserve.</p><p>For now, Gilbert clings to the moments they steal for themselves over FaceTime between homework assignments that lay long completed, or long forgotten...</p><p> </p><p>“It’s official: I have a black thumb.”</p><p>“Don't be ridiculous— of course you don’t.”</p><p>“Don’t try and spare my feelings— it’s alright— I’ve made peace with it.”</p><p>“I’m not trying to spare <em>anything</em>. It’s just facts.”</p><p>It’s the beginning of September and Gilbert’s holding a sad looking succulent that’s clearly on its last legs up at the camera for Anne to inspect. Her eyes had gone as wide as her mouth when Gilbert had told her he hadn't bothered to do much decorating in his dorm when they’d first started studying together over FaceTime. They’d gone even wider when he mentioned that he hadn't been planning on decorating much in general. Before Gilbert even realized he was agreeing to anything at all, he’d found himself promising to spruce the place up by picking up a house plant on his next trip to the grocery store. Following through with his promise had been worth it— if only to see the way Anne’s eyes light up in pleasure the next time they’d hopped on a video call together and he’d proudly shown his new plant off.</p><p>“And <em>I’m</em> telling you that the facts clearly show that I’m not cut out to be a plant dad.”</p><p>“Well, <em>I</em> think the apple trees in your orchard would beg to differ,” Anne says matter-of-factly. “They would have all died by now if you actually <em>did</em> have a black thumb.”</p><p>“I thought succulents were supposed to be easy to care for,” Gilbert says, frowning at the poor excuse for a plant in his hands before setting it off to the side on his desk. “The guy at the store said they didn’t need much attention.”</p><p>“Well, don’t be so hard on yourself— I’m <em>still</em> convinced you’d make a great dad,” Anne says hastily. “<em>Plant</em> dad.” She adds quickly when she catches her slip. “You’d make a great <em>plant</em> dad! Maybe succulents just aren’t your thing. Maybe you’re more cut out for heart-leaf ivy— like me!"</p><p>Gilbert’s not entirely sure he’s cut out to care for any sort of greenery that belongs indoors, but far be it from him to deny Anne anything— especially something as simple as picking up another house plant…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I have to ask…what did you mean when you tweeted that no one should ‘ever let you near a steaming wand again’ the other night?”</p><p>“Let’s just say latte art is harder than it looks…” Anne says ominously.</p><p>It’s mid September and they’ve just finished going over Gilbert’s expository essay. He’s not ready to say goodbye just yet though, so he finds himself asking Anne the first question that pops into his mind in an effort to keep her on the line for just a little bit longer. She’s been working at the coffee shop in Charlottetown for about two months now, and they’d finally decided to start training her on the espresso machine.</p><p>“Were you not able to make any designs at all?” He asks.</p><p>“Oh, I made <em>something</em> alright…” Anne says, smiling ruefully, though not making any effort to elaborate further.</p><p>Gilbert doesn’t miss the way her cheeks stain a pretty shade of pink, causing his curiosity to peak even further.</p><p>“Well, you’ve got to tell me now,” he prompts through a grin. “<em>Please</em>…<em>do</em> continue.”</p><p>Anne sighs audibly, though perhaps realizing she’s dug herself into a hole that’ll be hard to get out of, reluctantly pulls out her phone. Gilbert watches as she taps and swipes on the screen for a moment before finally holding her phone up to the camera on her laptop. It takes a minute for the lens to adjust to the brightness of the small screen she’s holding up to it. Gilbert almost chokes on the tea he’d been sipping once the resolution finally clears and the photo on Anne’s phone comes in to full focus. There’s no missing the distinct looking design floating in white foam across the top of the cup in the picture.</p><p>“I don’t know much about latte art but…is it supposed to look so…<em>phallic</em>?” Gilbert asks, hardly able to contain his laughter.</p><p>“Believe it or not, I was going for a rosetta,” Anne says dryly.</p><p>He loses a battle with himself as peels of laughter escape him.</p><p>“Ryan— you know, the guy who’s training me on the espresso machine? Anyway, he keeps telling me that it’s more common than you’d think to inadvertently pour obscene looking latte art when you’re first starting out,” Anne says, ignoring the way Gilbert’s still snickering like a 13-year-old boy. “In all seriousness— I can’t very well serve people lattes that look like <em>this! </em>What if this is all I can<em> ever </em>pour<em>?”</em>she says holding her phone up again for good measure. Another glimpse of Anne's unfortunate attempt at latte art sends Gilbert into another fit of giggles.</p><p>“Imagine Mrs. Lynde’s face though if she just so happened to walk in one day and <em>that’s</em> what you ended up serving her.”</p><p>“Oh my <em>GOD</em>.” Anne exclaims. “She’d probably have a heart attack! You’d have to bail me out of jail for involuntary manslaughter or something.”</p><p>She’s laughing alongside him now and Gilbert can’t get enough of the way the sound of her giggling fills his dorm room.</p><p>“For what it’s worth? I would bail you out of jail in a heartbeat if it ever came down to it,” he promises.</p><p>“Really?” Anne asks as though she doesn’t quite believe him. “Pinky swear?”</p><p>“Pinky swear.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’re not too tired tonight? It’s kind of late.”</p><p>“No, no— it’s fine— I promise.”</p><p>“Alright…" Anne says hesitantly. "Why isn’t your camera on though?”</p><p>It’s mid-October and Gilbert’s finally starting to feel like he belongs in Toronto. (Or as much as he <em>can</em> belong in this new city of his despite the fact that Anne’s currently holding a good chunk of his heart hostage back home on Prince Edward Island….)</p><p>“Oh! You know how I mentioned some of the guys I play pick up hockey with invited me to rush for Lambda Theta?”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Anne confirms, still looking a bit perplex over why it was she currently found herself talking to a dark screen instead of to Gilbert himself. “And I told you you <em>had</em> to do it— because <em>one</em> of us needs to live the quintessential university experience!”</p><p>“Right! Yes! Exactly! In any case, it’s rush week, so they sort of made us dress up as part of initiation today,” Gilbert explains as he pulls a clean shirt and a pair of joggers from his dresser. “I haven’t exactly had time to change, so I was just going to do that while you walk me through the gist of which part of the wonderful world of calculus we're working on today— but I’ll turn the camera on after.”</p><p>“Gilbert Blythe, you turn your camera on <em>right now</em>,” Anne orders, a particularly gleeful expression gracing her freckled face. “I demand to see what you’ve been parading around Toronto in!”</p><p>"Well, since you asked so nicely..." his reply comes equipped with a good-natured roll of his eyes— it’s wasted though, given that Anne can’t exactly see the expression her words drew from him anyway.</p><p>Gilbert makes quick work of turning on his laptop’s camera before stepping back so Anne can get a good look his Lambda Theta rush outfit: a flared, long-sleeved pink dress with perfectly puffed shoulders that falls just a few inches above his knees. An immaculate white pinafore complete with delicate ruffled detailing on the straps caps off the striking ensemble.</p><p>"Thoughts? Comments? <em>Compliments</em>?” Gilbert asks, as he makes a show of giving Anne a twirl that makes the hem of the dress inch up a bit higher as it floats in the air.</p><p>He chances a glance at the screen when he doesn't hear a peep out of Anne, only to find an unreadable expression plastered across her face.</p><p>“Personally, I thought I pulled it off better than most," Gilbert says confidently, gesturing at the dress he's wearing. He pauses to give Anne a chance to weigh in, but continues on when she doesn’t say a word. "Have I actually rendered <em>the</em> Anne Shirley-Cuthbert speechless?"</p><p>"Momentarily," Anne concedes. "Honestly? I'm just pissed that you can pull off a pink dress better than I can."</p><p>"I don't know about <em>that </em>but I'll take the compliment regardless!" Gilbert says through a laugh.</p><p>"I'm not even joking-- I'm so mad!" Anne pouts. "You know redheads can't wear pink, right? It clashes HORRIBLY! I would KILL to wear pink....maybe if I dyed my hair darker? I always hoped it would turn a bit more auburn as I got older..."</p><p>"But...your hair's so pretty just the way it is," Gilbert says a bit bemused before he can think better of it.</p><p>"Says <em>who</em>?" Anne scoffs, still examining the ends of her hair as though if she concentrates on the strands long enough she might be able to compel them a darker shade. "Definitely <em>not </em>every single person I've ever met who's made fun of me for it-- I have a list that's not exactly short on names, you know…"</p><p>"Says <em>me</em>," Gilbert says gently, hoping that Anne glosses over the fact that he’d once tugged on her hair and called her ‘<em>Carrots</em>’ when they were much younger. "Shouldn't that count for something?"</p><p>"It does…”Anne whispers back. "It counts for <em>everything."</em></p><p>Gilbert's heart flips in his chest at the mere idea of Anne putting so much value in his opinion. He wishes he could think of something smooth and clever to say in return, but now <em>he’s</em> the one who’s been left speechless. And then just as quickly as it had come, the moment passes when Anne takes the matter out of his hands entirely, steering the conversation back to safe waters before propelling them forward.</p><p>"So..." she says, clearing her throat. "Calculus...?"</p><p>"Right... calculus..." Gilbert says slowly as he takes a seat at his desk. "How can I help?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's early November. Anne’s voice is hoarse, and she's got a wet cough that makes Gilbert's eyebrows pinch together in worry whenever he hears it wrack her body.</p><p>"I almost didn't pick up you know-- you should be in bed resting, not talking to me."</p><p>"I know," Anne says weakly, adjusting a knit blanket she’s got draped around her shoulders. Her fiery red hair is more mussed up than he’s ever seen it, and the tip of her nose is a bright shade of red— likely rubbed raw from all of the tissues she’s had to use to blow it. But even in sickness, Gilbert<em> still</em> thinks Anne is the best thing his eyes have ever seen.</p><p>"I just wanted to call and say I got your box,” she continues. “It was sweet of you to send it-- you didn’t have to.”</p><p>“I know,” Gilbert replies, feeling the tips of his ears burn red as a wave of bashfulness washes over him. “but I wanted to. And it didn’t really seem like you were up for much of anything— let alone a trip to the store.”</p><p>In truth, he’d wasted no time in placing a delivery with a local grocery store, sending over a box of assorted teas, a jar of honey, and a little pot of Vicks Vapor Rub straight to Anne’s dorm the moment he’d heard she’d come down with a nasty bug. It was the best he could do from over a thousand miles away. He’d wondered briefly while placing the order if Anne would have let him take care of her in person if they lived closer to each other, or if she’d have put up a fight, put her foot down, and told him she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, before slamming the door in his face.</p><p>“Well, I’m doing my best to follow doctor’s orders,” she teases, grinning impishly at him. “I’ve got my tea right here and everything,” she says the last bit while holding up the steaming beverage as if to prove to Gilbert that she is, in fact, trying her best to stay hydrated and get better.</p><p>“I’m glad— I hope it helps,” he says. “Get some rest, and we’ll talk soon, okay?”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Anne says through a soft smile. “Thanks again, Gilbert— you’re the best.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“We missed you at Thanksgiving this year— will you be coming home for Christmas? I keep forgetting to ask you,” Anne says one night late into November.</p><p>There’s only a few weeks left before the end of their first semester, and both of them can see the finish line in sight.</p><p>“I’ve got finals right up until the end, but I’ll be back home just in time for Christmas Eve,” he confirms.</p><p>“Do you miss it? Avonlea?”</p><p>“I do…more than I thought I would.”</p><p>“I bet you're excited to come home then— and to see your family.” Anne continues. “I saw Bash and Delly two weeks ago when I went back for a quick visit— she’s getting so big!”</p><p>“I know,” Gilbert says, smiling at the thought of his growing niece. “It’ll be nice to spend some time with them, and to see Avonlea again…”</p><p>He pauses for a moment before he continues. “And…and to see you, too, I hope— if you’re not too busy.”</p><p>The nervous thrill he gets from vocalizing his desire to see her in person quells, blooming instead into warm relief when Anne beams at him through the screen.</p><p>“I’m excited to see you too!” she says with much more ease than Gilbert’s shaky confession. “Diana’s planning a get-together with everyone for Boxing Day— she hasn’t said anything to anyone yet, but I’m sure she won’t mind if I invite you a bit early. Will you come?”</p><p>He’d been hoping for some time alone with her, but at this point, Gilbert will take what he can get. “Sounds like fun— count me in!”</p><p>“Great! I’ll keep you posted on the details!” Anne exclaims.</p><p> </p><p>Gilbert goes to bed that night feeling much lighter than he has in a while, thoughts of Anne now swirling with the exhilarating notion of possibility, rather than worry. He’ll tell her after Christmas. As for what’ll happen after he does? That’s something that still remains to be seen.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First of all, I just wanted to give a quick shout out to Joss (follow them on Twitter @jossrezz !) who's <strong><a href="https://twitter.com/jossrezz/status/1263238466307010562?s=20">brilliant drawing</a></strong> reminded me that in 'Anne of the Island', Gil joins a fraternity and wears an apron and a bonnet at one point while he's rushing-- which, in and of itself, makes for perfect modern/college-AU fodder. But I LOVE her interpretation of the scene, and how she put Gilbert in a full-on dress-- AND added in a super supportive Anne, so I sort of wrote to the idea of that, and I'm super thankful that Joss was kind enough to let me do so!</p><p>Hope you all enjoyed reading this super soft impromptu middle chapter-- especially given that it's about to get a bit angsty again before the grand finale.</p><p>As always, thank you so so much to all of you who are kind enough to leave kudos and/or comments-- not even joking when I say that your comments (no matter how long or short) give me so much life. Like seriously. SO SO SO MUCH LIFE.</p><p>In between updates, you can come chat with me over on <strong><a href="https://xxprettylittletimebombxx.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a></strong>! Alternatively...if Twitter is more your speed, you can find me over there <strong><a href="https://twitter.com/ElaWithAnE">@ElaWithAnE</a></strong>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope y'all are fans of longer chapters-- I almost split this one in half, but then I felt like I just couldn't do that to any of you! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hope, Gilbert thinks, is a funny, brilliant, beautifully powerful thing. He’d never had much of it when it came to the unfathomable notion that Anne might ever end up reciprocating his feelings.</p><p>He has a bit of it now though, but keeping careful hold of it is harder than it looks. It’s not unlike trying to keep water cupped in the palm of your hands without letting a single drop slip through the cracks between your fingers— difficult, but not impossible if you’re cautious about it.</p><p>Hope is what keeps him going over the course of the final few weeks of his first semester in Toronto as he anxiously counts down the days until winter break…until he can go home to Avonlea…until he can get home to <em>Anne</em>.</p><p>Hope is what burns especially bright within his heart in the small moments they share together during their video calls— in the fleeting instances where Gilbert wholeheartedly finds himself believing that maybe Anne might possibly love him too.</p><p>Sometimes, he thinks he sees it in the way she holds his gaze for a little bit longer than necessary, perfectly comfortable in letting the silence wash over them, a fond glint in her eyes reflecting back at him through his computer screen…or in the soft, gentle smile she gives him when Gilbert feels brave enough to pay her a compliment…or at the way she’s taken to shortening his name to <em>Gil</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Anne catches the way his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline the first time she does it, and quickly apologizes through a bright blush the poor resolution on his screen doesn’t quite do justice to.</p><p>No one’s ever called him anything other than Gilbert before— and he doesn’t think Bash insisting on Delphine calling him Uncle Gilby quite counts in exactly the same way. He’d never thought of himself as a Gil. It feels foreign, yet familiar, and he thinks he could get used to the way it sounds slipping out of Anne’s rosy lips.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “You can call me Gil if you want to— I don’t mind.”</p><p>What he really wants to say is, “<em>you can call me whatever the hell you want.” </em>But he thinks that might be a bit too much too soon.</p><p> </p><p><em>Not much longer now, Blythe, </em>he thinks to himself.<em> Then you can tell her. Then she’ll know…</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Gilbert gets back to Avonlea late on a Wednesday night. On Thursday, they’re celebrating Christmas Eve together— him, Bash, Delly, Elijah, and Hazel, who’s outdone herself with the small feast she’d spent two days preparing.</p><p>It feels good to be home, in a house full of love and laughter— but it also feels a bit strange to go a Thursday night without speaking to Anne. As soon as he thinks it, she’s back in the forefront of his mind, like a song playing on loop that he can’t quite get out of his head.</p><p>Just knowing that she’s <em>so close</em>…that they’re breathing the same air…traipsing over the same terrain…that if he really wanted to, he could run as fast as his legs would allow and see her in a matter of minutes without the use of any sort of technology? It’s all almost too much for him to bear.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Two days later finds Gilbert fidgeting nervously on the Barry’s front steps. Diana greets him with a warm hug when she opens the door before ushering him inside, and out of the cold.</p><p>“Everyone’s in the living room already! I hope you’re hungry. My mom cooked up way too many appetizers,” Diana says through a laugh as she takes Gilbert’s coat and hangs it up for him. “Anne’s not here yet— she’s running late,” she adds when she catches Gilbert trying to take a subtle peek into the other room to see who’s arrived already.</p><p>“That’s good to know, I guess…?” He responds in turn, trying to play off the disappointment. “I didn’t ask though.”</p><p>Diana doesn’t press him on it. Instead, she shoots him an infuriatingly knowing grin before responding in a sing-song voice with a simple “I know…”</p><p>He lets Diana drag him through the hall and over into the living room where the rest of their old school chums are already enjoying each other’s company, while spread out across a collection of sofas and chairs. He grins when they greet him with a warm, boisterous welcome, and suddenly it feels just like old times.</p><p>Gilbert’s been antsy all morning. Feeling like he’s buzzed off of a concoction of equal parts nervousness and anticipation over knowing that at some point tonight, he plans to unburden his heart, and tell Anne that he loves her. But despite how terribly he’s itching to figure out some way to steal a moment alone with Anne once she arrives, Gilbert can’t deny that he’s thoroughly enjoying the process of catching up with the old Avonlea high crew.</p><p>Moody and Charlie had, like many of the friends he’d gone to high school with, ended up sticking close to home and studying at Queens. Both of the Pauls, plus Billy had opted to study a bit further away. He trades university stories with the boys for a bit before Mrs. Barry brings out a large tray of appetizers, with Diana trailing right behind her mother, carrying a sizable carafe of fragrant mulled cider in one hand, and balancing a tray of mugs in another.</p><p>Gilbert ends up scrunched on one end of a sofa with Moody and Ruby taking up the rest of the space beside him. Moody, who’s squished between the two, doesn’t waste much time before he launches into an impassioned rant about what it’ll take for the Maple Leafs have a shot at making the playoffs this year.</p><p>He hears her before he sees her— halfway through Moody rattling off some hockey stats.</p><p>And when Gilbert’s eyes dart over to the other end of the room, Anne’s there, in the flesh, standing in the entrance of the Barry’s living room with Diana clinging to her arm as they share a laugh over something they must have been discussing before they came in. The room around them explodes in greetings and Anne finds herself flanked by the Avonlea girls, all of whom can’t wait to give her the warmest of welcomes.</p><p>Gilbert wishes he could join them, but he’s frozen on the spot. Rooted in place on the couch while the rest of the room with all of its people, and all of its noise, melt away until all he sees is <em>her</em>.</p><p>She’s a vision in velvet green. Simultaneously his own personal kryptonite, and the most beautiful thing Gilbert’s ever seen— something to be feared but also revered. Then Anne’s eyes are locking in on his, face lighting up as her lips pull into a brilliant, wide smile tailor made just for him. Gilbert’s suddenly relieved he hadn’t been able to make it off of the couch to begin with, because he’s pretty sure if he’d have been standing, the look on Anne’s face when she’d spotted him would have been enough to make his knees buckle under the weight of her gaze.</p><p>He watches with rapt attention as Anne excuses herself from the girls before she makes her way toward him. And all Gilbert can stupidly do once Anne is standing right in front of him is stare up at her with an awestruck expression on his face. It doesn’t matter that he’s seen her through a screen every week over the course of the past hundred and thirty-three days. Technology has come a long way since its inception, but no matter how good laptop cameras have gotten, nothing compares to what it feels like to see Anne’s face in all its glorious, freckled, three dimensional definition.</p><p>“Are you just going to stare at me like I’m some kind of ghost, or are you going to get up and give me a proper greeting Gilbert Blythe?” Anne teases when he stays silent for too long.</p><p>She holds a hand out and Gilbert has the good sense to take it, willing his racing heart to settle down as he lets Anne help him up off the couch.</p><p>“It’s good to see you, Gil…for <em>real</em> that is.” Anne says warmly before she pulls him into a tight embrace.</p><p>Gilbert can hardly speak. He’s too intoxicated by her presence, but miraculously, his arms still work just fine, and he puts them to good use as he wraps them around her, pressing Anne close…squeezing her tight…wondering as his nose grazes her temple if she can tell simply from the way he holds her, that if he had it his way, he’d never let her go.</p><p>He finds his voice in the exhale Anne’s own returning squeeze draws from him. “It’s good to see you too— I missed you.”</p><p>Anne pulls back a bit too soon for Gilbert’s liking, but she stays close and that’s a decent enough consolation prize for now.</p><p>“I missed you too,” she says warmly. “I hardly knew what to do with myself this past Thursday— I’ve grown rather fond of you rattling off Calculus tips and tricks. It felt strange to go without it for a week.”</p><p>“How did you ever manage to survive?” He teases in return.</p><p>“I almost didn’t,” Anne laughs. “In fact, I <em>insist</em> we return to our regularly scheduled routine as soon as possible.”</p><p>“I’m good with that,” Gilbert says softly. “Listen, do you think I could steal you for a bit at some point tonight before you head home? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”</p><p>“Uh oh— should I be worried?” Anne asks through a nervous laugh.</p><p>Gilbert doesn’t get a chance to respond before Diana’s announcing that it’s time for the white elephant gift exchange.</p><p>“Sorry, Anne!” the other girl says. “I think I miscounted the seats— I’ll just go and grab an extra chair from the dining room.”</p><p>“No need Diana, I’ll just…” Anne says cutting her best friend off before she gracefully lowers herself onto the floor right in front of Gilbert’s legs. “You don’t mind, do you?” She asks, craning her neck to look up at him.</p><p>Gilbert’s mouth goes dry, but he manages a quick “No, it’s fine.” Before he spreads his knees a bit to give Anne room to lean back against the couch.</p><p>“Thanks!” She says, taking advantage of the space he’s made for her, before she turns around and waits expectantly for Diana to pass around a jar filled with numbered scraps of paper for them to draw to determine the gift opening order.</p><p>Anne goes first, selecting a small, hefty box that turns out to be filled with about thirty dollars worth of spare change. It’s quickly stolen by Jane, who goes next and opens a scratch off travel map of the world. On and on they go, laughing at the creativity of some of the gifts the others have chosen to bring for the night’s festivities. At one point Moody unwraps a pair of furry pink handcuffs, which he jokingly suggests he’ll be putting away for safe keeping, until Ruby gives him a pointed look and a firm elbow to the ribs. He trades with Cole for a pair of earmuffs, with Cole promising that he’ll be sure and put the handcuffs to good use on Moody’s behalf.</p><p>Gilbert’s the last to go, and all that’s left is a soft, slightly lumpy gift that’s been wrapped in brown paper and twine, with a pair of tiny pine cones serving in place of a bow. He tears the wrapping away, and is left with a brightly colored scarf. It’s clearly been homemade if the irregular edges are anything to go off of.</p><p>“That’s the saddest looking scarf I’ve ever seen!” Billy guffaws from where he’s sitting in the corner next to Josie Pye.</p><p>“I tried, alright!” Anne loudly confesses through a bright blush. “Sorry, Gil! It’s pretty ghastly, even for a first attempt, isn’t it?” She places a hand on one of his knees as she turns to stare up at him before whispering, “You can trade it for something else— I promise I won’t be offended.”</p><p>“Why would I do that?” Gilbert asks, smiling down at her. “It’s perfect— just what I needed. I love it.” And then, as if to prove to her that he really <em>does</em> appreciate getting to take home something Anne crafted with her own two hands, Gilbert wraps the scarf promptly around his neck, ignoring the warm and toasty temperature of the room.</p><p>Billy shuts up pretty fast after that, and Anne gives Gilbert’s knee a meaningful squeeze before she finds her attention drawn away from his, and over to where Ruby and Tillie are grilling Jane about her new boyfriend.</p><p>“Speaking of <em>boyfriends</em>…” Tillie says through a giggle. “What’s the deal with you and Royal Gardner, Anne?”</p><p>Anne chokes a bit on the mulled wine she’d just so happened to be taking a sip of when Tillie’s comment had come, and Gilbert can feel the ragged breath she takes after she recovers from where her back is pressed against one of his legs.</p><p>“<em>Excuse me</em>?” Anne replies through a reedy voice.</p><p>“Don’t play coy, Cuthbert— spill the deets!” Tillie prods.</p><p>“Yeah!” Ruby pipes in through a giggle. “We <em>all</em> saw the pictures Royal Gardner posted on his Instagram!”</p><p>“Who’s Royal Gardner?” Billy asks confused.</p><p>Gilbert sends a silent mental thanks to Billy for asking the important questions, as he sits up straight, body tense, and waits on more details.</p><p>“<em>No one.</em>” Anne says just as Ruby replies with “Only the <em>hottest </em>guy at Queens!”</p><p>“Sorry, Moody!” Ruby adds as an after thought, leaning over to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.</p><p>“No, she’s right— he <em>is </em>kind of a dreamboat,” Moody laughs. “Captain of the hockey team, treasurer of the student council, top of his class…”</p><p>Gilbert says nothing as he listens intently to his friend rattling off this guy’s list of accomplishments, all while willfully wishing the couch he’s currently sitting on would swallow him whole.</p><p>“And <em>clearly</em> quite smitten with <em>our</em> Anne!” Tillie finishes. “At least if the pictures are anything to go by!”</p><p>“Okay, now I’ve <em>got</em> to see these pictures you two keep going on about!” Jane interjects while waggling her eyebrows.</p><p>Ruby’s quick to accommodate, pulling Instagram up on her phone before holding it out for Jane to inspect, and Gilbert watches with a heavy heart as Jane gushes over whatever it is she’s seeing.</p><p>“OH. MY. GOD. <em>That’s</em> him?” she asks, tilting the phone screen in Anne’s direction so she can confirm. “He looks like a movie star!”</p><p>Gilbert begrudgingly agrees, eyebrows knotting together as he takes in the handsome face of the guy at Queens who’s, unbeknownst to him, been vying for Anne’s affection. A pang of dread stirs low in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that Tillie hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d been teasing Anne about Royal Gardner being smitten. It’s plain to see. Captured right there on camera in the doting look he’s giving a beaming Anne by his side. Even Josie Pye, who loves to feign aloofness, seems to be intrigued by what she sees.</p><p>“So are you two like…<em>going out</em>?” The blonde girl asks, causing Gilbert to hold his breath.</p><p>“Well…not that my love life is <em>anyone’s </em>business<em>…</em>” Anne sniffs. “But we have been out a few times. Roy’s very nice— can’t say I get what all the fuss is about the other stuff though."</p><p>“But he <em>never</em> takes girls to the fraternity formals,” Ruby cries. “Not in the <em>three years</em> he’s been at Queens!”</p><p>Ruby’s exclamation draw another round of snickers from Tillie and Jane, and a scoff from Anne.</p><p>“<em>Okay,</em> I’m done talking about Roy— I’m thirsty!” She announces before getting up from her spot between Gilbert’s legs and makes her way out of the room. “Anyone want a drink from the kitchen? I’m going to go get some water!”</p><p>Anne decidedly ignores a joking comment from Jane about how if she were spending time with a guy who looked like he could give James Dean a run for his money, she’d be thirsty all of the time too. Gilbert, however, doesn’t have the luxury of doing the same.</p><p>He’d never been foolish enough to believe Anne would never date anyone in her life, but he’d always thought he’d at <em>least </em>get around to telling her how he feels about her before then. But the news that Anne had found someone, and all while he’d foolishly thought they’d been growing closer together despite the distance, twists inside his chest like a dagger straight to the heart.</p><p>Gilbert stews in the heartache for a moment while the conversation in the room carries on without him. Distantly, he registers that someone’s trying to organize some sort of drinking game that he doesn’t feel as though he has the energy to join in on. His eyes scan the room for Diana, thinking now would be the best time to excuse himself and head on home so he can wallow alone in peace. When he doesn’t spot her anywhere in the living room, Gilbert opts for tapping Moody on the shoulder and letting his friend know that he’s leaving instead.</p><p>“I’ve got to get going, but can you tell Diana I said thanks for everything?”</p><p>“Sure!” Moody answers brightly. “Sorry you can’t stay for the game, but it was great to see you, Gilbert!”</p><p>“You too, Moody,” Gilbert says, clapping his friend on the shoulder before slinking out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>He’s just about got his coat on by the front door when an all too familiar voice makes his muscles freeze up.</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>Gilbert takes a moment to scrunch up his face in anguish at the sound of Anne coming up behind him, before he turns around with a neutral expression plastered across his face.</p><p>“‘fraid so,” he replies.</p><p>“Oh…” Anne starts, top teeth nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment before she speaks again. “I was hoping you could stay longer— we haven’t even really had a chance to talk.”</p><p>“No, we haven’t,” Gilbert agrees. “And I suppose there<em> are </em>some things to catch up on, aren’t there?”</p><p>They stand, squared off against each other, cloaked in heavy, loaded silence. He should leave…Gilbert knows he should. But he doesn’t. Instead, because he clearly hasn’t experienced enough heartache for one night, he does quite the opposite.</p><p>“<em>So</em>…Royal Gardner, huh?” He asks, voice muted and void of cadence. “Even his <em>name</em> sounds dreamy. Funny how you never mentioned him.”</p><p>“Because there’s <em>not </em>much to say,” Anne says incessantly. “We’ve just gone out a few times is all.”</p><p>“Didn’t seem like that to me. What with the way Ruby and Tillie were going on about it back there.”</p><p>“Oh come <em>on</em>, Gilbert— as much as I love them both, even<em> I</em> know they’re both prone to gossip,” Anne says through rolled eyes. She’s trying to keep her tone light, but there’s no missing the tension that rolls off of her in waves as she crosses her arms defensively in front of herself.</p><p>“You could have, you know…talked to me about him. If you wanted to…” he finds himself offering despite how much it pains him to do so. “You <em>can</em> still…if you want to.”</p><p>“You want me to talk to <em>you</em> about <em>boys</em>?” Anne says through a nervous laugh.</p><p>Gilbert frowns. He doesn’t have the heart to join her, though no one finds the idea of his offer more hilarious than him— the boy who’s been in love with her his whole life.</p><p>“It’s not like you talk to <em>me</em> about all of the girls I’m sure <em>you’re</em> dating in Toronto,” Anne adds when he doesn’t fill the silence.</p><p>“What girls do you think I’m dating?” He asks, words coming out a bit more strangled than he intended them to.</p><p>“Well…Winnie something-rather for one,” Anne says after a moment. She carries on when Gilbert shoots her a gobsmacked look. “You’re always liking each other’s tweets…and— and— <em>flirting</em> in the replies….I just assumed you two were…<em>close.</em>”</p><p>Gilbert does laugh at that— a short puff of a dark chuckle that bursts from his lips as he tips his head back, because the idea that he could ever look at anyone else when Anne exists at all is the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his life.</p><p>“Right. <em>Sure</em>,” he says for lack of anything better. “Look. It’s getting late, and I promised Bash I’d help around the farm pretty early on tomorrow,” he lies. “I’d better get going.”</p><p>Anne catches his arm as Gilbert turns to head toward the Barry’s front door, and even through the layers of clothing he’s got on, the touch of her fingers feel like a hot brand on his skin.</p><p>“<em>Wait!</em>— didn’t you say you wanted to talk earlier?” She asks.</p><p>“Forget about it— it’s not important,” he mutters.</p><p>“Are you <em>sure</em>?” She asks, her eyes a gentle juxtaposition to the weight she throws behind the words she speaks. “Isn’t there <em>anything</em> you want to say to me, Gil?”</p><p>His heart is beating so terribly, Gilbert thinks it’s a miracle Anne can’t hear it given her close proximity.Maybe this is it— the only chance he’ll ever get. Maybe he should just blurt it out and be done with it. Force his lips, his mouth to cooperate and wrap themselves around thethree small words that have the power to do him in one way or another...</p><p>Gilbert draws in a deep breath to steady himself before he gently plucks Anne’s hand from where it rests on his arm so he can take it in one of his own. It’s a perfect fit, and for some reason, given their current circumstance, he finds that to be the most tragically heartbreaking moment of the night so far.</p><p>He’d always been under the impression that Anne could read him like an open book. But maybe that had always been his clouded judgement making him believe Anne could see right through him. Maybe the truth of the matter is that Anne doesn’t even <em>really</em> know him at all…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How can she not see it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How can she not know?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Anne…”</em>
</p><p><em>“</em>Yes?<em>”</em></p><p> </p><p>The sound of Anne’s phone ringing loudly tears through the room, pulling them both from whatever semblance of a moment they’d stitched together despite the tense words exchanged. She flinches in surprise, muttering an apology as she uses the hand that’s not in Gilbert’s to fumble in the pocket of her dress so she can fish it out.</p><p>“You’d better get that,” Gilbert says quietly when he sees the name <em>Roy</em>, taunting him as itsmugly flashes on the glowing screen held between them.</p><p>“I—“ Anne starts, eyes flicking back and forth from Gilbert’s eyes to the ringing phone laying in the palm of her hand.</p><p>Gilbert musters a small smile, and then with all the strength he has left in him, he whispers a quick <em>goodbye </em>before slipping his hand from Anne’s grip. And the last thing he hears before he closes the Barry’s front door behind him is the sound of Anne’s bright <em>hello</em> as she answers the phone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He hardly sleeps a wink that night, fitfully waking from a slew of sordid dreams, all of which feature Anne, who haunts him like a ghost whenever Gilbert shuts his eyes. He finally gives up at a quarter to five in the morning, rolling out of bed with a groan, and tugging on the warmest sweater and pair of joggers he can find before hastily putting on his shoes and shoving a hat onto his head.</p><p>He takes a run through the family’s old apple orchard like he used to back in high school while training for the upcoming hockey season, weaving in and out of the neat rows of leafless trees, their branches still caked with fresh snow. The unforgiving winter air makes his eyes water and his face sting. His lungs burn too, whenever he draws in a sharp breath, piercing his insides like a thousand tiny icy daggers. It’s painful, but a pain Gilbert welcomes, because it offers up a brief reprieve from the incessant dull aching of his heart in exchange for the momentary discomfort of his other vital organs.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I waited too long…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I should have told her sooner…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I let my chance go by…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He tries his best to shake the regret out of his head, tries to focus instead on the burning of his lungs, and the burning of his legs as they carry him at a brisk pace through the apple trees.</p><p>Gilbert makes a detour at the barn while trudging back up to the house, stopping to feed the horses and the chickens, before making quick work of milking the pair of dairy cows housed toward the back.</p><p>It’s barely half past six by the time he makes it back inside. To keep busy, Gilbert makes a pot of oatmeal and keeps it warming on the stove before heading quietly back upstairs to take a shower. He feels robotic as he goes through the motions of getting ready— fitting really, given that machines are heartless, and he’s pretty sure he left <em>his</em> heart on the floor at Anne’s feet the night before. Right there in the Barry’s front entrance.</p><p>It’s another hour later before he finds himself back downstairs, tucking into a bowl of bland oatmeal and a cup of coffee, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone for lack of anything better to do. Gilbert startles when he sees a text from Anne push through his notifications.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I didn’t like the way we left things yesterday— can we talk? I’ll come to you. I know you’re busy. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty and helping out around the farm. Just let me know what time!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Is this the part of their story where she’ll let him down easy? The part where Anne will come over and tell him that she’s finally realized how stupidly in love with her he is? Where she tells him that she loves him too— but not in the way that he’d like her to? The part where she’ll beg him to be friends? Where Gilbert will find himself agreeing because he can’t imagine his life without her— because just a friend is all he’s ever been? Even if just the sight of her will likely cause his heart to break all over again?</p><p>Selfishly, cowardly, Gilbert doesn’t want to find out. Not just yet. Not right now. So he scribbles a quick note to Bash and the rest of the family, letting them know that he’ll be out for the day before he grabs his phone, his wallet, and his keys and hightails it out of the house before Anne can come and hunt him down herself.</p><p>Avonlea’s barely stirring by the time he makes it in to town with no real destination in mind. He’d thought about taking a walk through the woods, but he doesn’t think it wise to go somewhere where he’s sure he’ll feel Anne’s energy all around him. In the end, Gilbert settles for ducking into a newer coffee shop that must have popped up at some point while he was away for his first semester at university.</p><p>He orders a cup of coffee from a bleary-eyed barista who seems to be half asleep himself. Gilbert takes the piping hot beverage up to the second floor where he tucks himself into a ratty arm chair in the corner.</p><p>His phone chirps again from inside his coat pocket, and another text message from Anne stares back at him from the screen when he pulls it out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m heading in to town to grab coffee with Diana and Cole, but I can swing by your place after if that’s ok? Let me know!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Realizing that his current hideout might very well be compromised if Anne and her friends throw caution to the wind and come here instead of going to their usual haunt, Gilbert finds himself making a hasty exit.</p><p>He wanders down the main road wondering if maybe he should just turn back, go home, and wait until the moment Anne will inevitably turn up unannounced. He’s about to do just that when he spies the old movie house up ahead in the distance.</p><p>As Gilbert nears, he notices the marquee is advertising a special Harry Potter movie marathon set for today. He buys a ticket on impulse, and makes his way into the darkened movie theater just in time to see Hagrid coming in to rescue Harry from the Dursleys. The theater isn’t super packed just yet, but it’s early and he’s sure it’s bound to get a bit busier as the marathon progresses. Gilbert chooses a strategic seat toward the back and off to the side.</p><p>He tries his best to get lost in the world of fantasy instead of focusing on the bits and pieces of Anne he sees reflected in the characters on screen. In the moments of bravery, determination, passion, intelligence, stubbornness…</p><p>Somewhere toward the end of Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts, Gilbert ducks out to use the bathroom. He stops, stunned in his tracks, when he rounds the corner on his way back to the theater and comes face to face with Cole, who’s there with his two younger sisters and an armful of popcorn, sodas, and snacks.</p><p>“Gilbert!” the taller boy says in surprise when he spots him. “Are you here for the marathon, too?”</p><p>“Huh?” Gilbert starts. “Oh…yeah. The marathon. Right— you too?”</p><p>“A Christmas present for my sisters,” Cole says, gesturing to his two young charges.</p><p>“That’s nice,” Gilbert offers through a smile.</p><p>Cole shoots him a perplexed look before he hands the movie snacks over to the older of the two girls. “Why don’t you two go pick a spot to sit and I’ll come find you in a minute— just stay together, alright?”</p><p>Once he’s assured they’ve both made it inside, Cole turns back to Gilbert. “You know Anne’s been trying to get ahold of you all morning, right?”</p><p>“I— yeah, I know I just…” he trails off.</p><p>“Do you want to tell me why it is you’re ghosting my best friend?”</p><p>Cole doesn’t exactly give Gilbert a chance to respond either way. Instead, he finds himself being lead down the lobby and over to a sleek looking bench positioned in a quieter part of the movie theater.</p><p>“Anne said you seemed a bit off last night when you left Diana’s— she’s pretty worried about you, you know?” Cole starts once they’re seated. “She wouldn’t stop going on about how she feels like she did something wrong, and that she’s been trying to get in touch with you, but you haven’t answered her calls yet.”</p><p>“Did she call too?” Gilbert starts. “My phone’s been off for a few hours now because of the movies.”</p><p>“So you got her texts and didn’t bother to reply?” Cole asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly at him.</p><p>“I wasn’t going to ghost her <em>forever</em>…” Gilbert says. “I just needed a bit of time— to sort my brain out.”</p><p>Cole stares at him intently, and Gilbert tries not to shrink under the other boys’ gaze. “Look, I’m not sure what went down between the two of you last night, but if you don’t call her back soon, Anne’s liable to rope the entire town into trying to track you down. You <em>know</em> how she gets when she starts to worry.”</p><p>“I’m surprised she still has time to worry about me that much at all— I would have assumed that <em>Royal Gardner </em>would be taking up most of her time.”</p><p>The bitter comment slips out before Gilbert can think better of it, and his callous confession cause Cole’s eyes to go a bit wide.</p><p>“You love her.”</p><p>He can’t help but notice the way Cole says it— not in a way that leaves any space for Gilbert to confirm or deny. He says it like a statement. As though it’s a fact that he knows to be true.</p><p>“Does <em>everyone</em> know?” Gilbert asks, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable over the thought that perhaps the whole town has been privy to the way his heart has only ever belonged to <em>her.</em></p><p>“Only anyone with a decent pair of eyes,” Cole says gently. “But that’s not a bad thing.”</p><p>“Does Anne know?”</p><p>“Anne’s my friend, and I love her dearly,” he starts slowly. “But she can be a bit…<em>unobservant</em> when it comes to love and romance.”</p><p>“I think her new <em>boyfriend</em> would beg to differ…” Gilbert says tiredly.</p><p>“You <em>know</em> Anne loves you, right?” Cole says.</p><p>“Yeah…I know. She loves me like she loves <em>you</em>— or Diana, or Ruby, or Moody—” he replies.</p><p>“No, Gilbert,” Cole says shaking his head and cutting him off. “You know she <em>loves</em> <em>you</em>, right?” He repeats again, slowly, and with much more emphasis. “And I think that if you love her too, then you should tell her.”</p><p>“But…what about Roy?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about Gardner— screw him!” Cole says with exasperation. “Just…trust me on this one, <em>please</em>. If you love Anne— if you<em> truly</em> love her…you should tell her.” He shoots him a sympathetic smile before he shrugs and says, “Besides, at this point, what have you got to lose? You’re already miserable. There’s nowhere to go but up.”</p><p>Gilbert says nothing, but he rubs his eyes tiredly as he lets Cole’s advice sink in.</p><p>“I’ve got to get back to my sisters, but I hope you’ll think about it at least?” Cole says as he stands. “See you around, Gilbert.”</p><p>Gilbert watches Cole disappear back in the direction they’d originally come from before he follows a few moments later. He settles back into his chair in the movie theater. His eyes are trained firmly on the big screen in front of him, but his mind is far away, ruminating over Cole’s advice, and swirling (as always) with thoughts of one, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s late when Gilbert finally pulls up to Green Gables, realizing in hindsight that it’s rather <em>too</em> late to be making house calls. He doesn’t dare bound up the porch steps and knock on the door, as doing so would likely result in facing the wrath of one, Marilla Cuthbert. Instead, he hops out of his car, quietly making his way over to the side of the house where he knows Anne’s bedroom window is before shooting her a text.</p><p>It takes a minute, but then he finally hears the window on the second floor open up, and then Anne’s there, staring down at him from up above, already in her pajamas, and holding a book tightly to her chest. He can’t read the title from his vantage point, but he recognizes the cover as belonging to a compilation of John Keats letters he’d gifted Anne when they were fifteen and she’d been going through her romantic poets phase.</p><p>“Give me a minute to get something warm on,” Anne says finally. “I’ll meet you out front.”</p><p>Gilbert nods, shoving his hands into his pockets before trudging through the snow back in the direction from which he came to wait for her.</p><p>His breath catches in his throat when Anne finally emerges. Gilbert hadn’t really thought further than getting here when he’d made the decision to come calling. He tries his best to stifle the panic that begins to rise over the realization that maybe this wasn’t the best course of action after all— not without a proper game plan on his part at least.</p><p>“I almost didn’t come to the window you know,” She says quietly as she makes her way down the porch steps and toward where he’s standing over by his car. “Thought maybe I’d give you a tase of your own medicine— make<em> you</em> sweat it out a bit and worry over <em>me</em> for once today.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done that,” Gilbert offers. “I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you— I kept meaning to, I just…”</p><p>“You were just too busy avoiding me?” Anne supplies through a wry smile.</p><p>He feels the tips of his ears burn at the way Anne doesn’t tiptoe around when it comes to calling him out. “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me if I told you that I just had a lot on my mind today? And that I didn’t want to reach out until I’d had a chance to clear my head?”</p><p>“I could…” she sighs. “But Gil, we’re supposed to be<em> friends</em>— you’re supposed to be able to tell me things— tell me <em>anything</em>. Even if all you’re doing is giving me a heads up about the fact that you’re planning to go off the grid for a bit.”</p><p>Gilbert tries not to focus too hard on the way Anne’s use of the word <em>friends</em> makes his stomach sink unpleasantly.</p><p>“You’re right,” he agrees quietly, unsure of how to proceed. He’s relieved when Anne takes matters into her own hands and steers the conversation for them.</p><p>“How’s your head now?” she asks, the slight frost that had been lingering around the edges of her voice now all but melted away.</p><p>“Still a bit foggy to be honest,” he confesses.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do to help with that?”</p><p>Her tone is so hopeful its borderline unbearable. “I think maybe it’s something I might have to work through on my own.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it anyway? Likely, you’ll recall I happen to be a very good listener,” Anne offers.</p><p>Gilbert offers her a small smile in return as he ruminates over how to proceed. For some reason he can’t stop thinking about that Keats book Anne had been holding when she’d come to the window. He had one just like it at home— an earlier edition with a tattered hardback cover that had once belonged to his mother.</p><p>When Gilbert was younger, he’d spend hours pouring over the pages of the book, paying close attention to the tiny asterisks his mother had penciled in by the letters he assumed had been her favorites. She’d only ever bothered to underline a single string of words throughout the whole book from a letter dated July 1819:</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I have so much of you in my heart</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He’d never fully understood the weight of the sentiment until Anne had come along.</p><p>“Have you ever been in love?” Gilbert finds himself asking suddenly. For a moment, he worries that Anne won’t humor him with an answer, but then again, Anne’s never really been one to back down from much.</p><p>“Once.”</p><p>She doesn’t clarify, and Gilbert’s too afraid to ask about whether it means she’s already falling for Roy, or whether she’s talking about some secret sweetheart he didn’t know she’d had previously.</p><p>“What about you?” she volleys back.</p><p>“Once,” Gilbert croaks out.</p><p>“And how did you find it?”</p><p>He stalls for a moment, unsure of how to answer, but then Anne’s large blue eyes are locking in on his, and it feels as if she’s pulling the words straight out of his heart through the sheer intensity of her gaze alone. “It’s…<em>painful</em>. And it’s <em>hard</em>…hard to see the person you’re in love with happy in someone else’s company, when all you selfishly want is for them to love you back.”</p><p>“Whoever she is, she’d be a fool not to pick you,” Anne says meaningfully. “And if she can’t see that? Well, then she doesn’t deserve you.”</p><p>“But she’s not a fool. She’s the best person I know,” he counters quickly. “She’s incredibly kind, and smart— smarter than me, if I’m being honest…and she’s got this way of seeing the beauty in people, and places, and things— even when others can’t. And I’ve never known anyone more caring…I can’t think of anyone more deserving of any love I’ve got to give.”</p><p>“She…sounds pretty great,” Anne says weakly.</p><p>“She is. If anything I’m the fool,” Gilbert continues. “Foolish for waiting so long to come clean because I was too afraid to lose her— because I was too afraid to lose my best friend.”</p><p>It takes everything he has to keep his eyes on Anne’s until he sees the glimmer of realization light in the depths of the blue orbs staring back at him.</p><p>“Gilbert…I don’t…” Anne starts. “I didn’t—“</p><p>“It’s okay Anne— I don’t expect your favor,” he says cutting her off gently while taking a few steps back. “But telling you that I love you? Telling you that I’ve <em>been</em> in love with you for as long as I can remember…It just felt like something you should know if you didn’t already…and it was something I needed to do— <em>to say</em>. For myself.”</p><p>“Are you done, Gilbert Blythe? Do I get to speak now?” Anne asks.</p><p>“I’ve only ever been in love once,” Anne starts, slowly inching her way forward to close the distance he’d just placed between them. “And do you want to know how <em>I </em>found it? I found it <em>maddening</em>. I kept thinking I must be going crazy, or that I was reading too far into things, or that I was<em> seeing</em> things that I wanted to see— <em>hearing</em> what I wanted to hear.”</p><p>Anne laughs at that, as though finding amusement in her own rambling.</p><p>“You know, one night back in September I could have <em>sworn</em> I heard you tell me you loved me? But it was so late, and I was half asleep, and then you never <em>said</em> anything else. So I thought I must have dreamed it— and maybe I did…” Anne continues.</p><p>She takes another step toward him, and it steals the breath straight out of Gilbert’s lungs.</p><p>“You did get one part wrong though, while you were showering me with compliments I’m still not sure I deserve…” Anne says. “You said I wasn’t a fool, but I still think I’ve been pretty foolish. It’s not exactly like I needed to wait around for <em>you</em> to tell me you love me…maybe I could have saved us both the pain and the madness If I’d just plucked up the courage to tell you I love you, too.”</p><p>“You loved me too?” Gilbert asks, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he tries to process every word that’s just come out of Anne’s mouth.</p><p>“No— not <em>loved</em>,” Anne says, shaking her head vigorously. “<em>Love—</em> present tense, Gil. I loved you <em>then</em>, and I love you <em>now</em>.”</p><p>“But— what about Roy back at Queens?” he asks in bemusement as he rakes a hand through his hair.</p><p>“Roy’s lovely, and he’s a great friend, but he’s not <em>you</em>,” Anne says through a grin. “And that’s what I told him when he called on Boxing Day right after you left the party.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gilbert says, hoping she understands he means for the apology to cover everything he’s not listing out.</p><p>“I’m sorry too,” Anne offers. “And I hope you don’t find this too forward…but you should knowI’ve already made peace with the fact that most likely, I’m doomed to love you until the day I die— and I’ll probably <em>still</em> be stupidly in love with you for whatever comes after that too.”</p><p>Gilbert can’t help the way his face lights up like a child’s at Christmas over Anne’s declaration. He doesn’t think he’ll <em>ever</em> tire of hearing her tell him that she loves him.</p><p>“Have I scared you off yet with all of my feelings?” Anne asks through a nervous laugh.</p><p>“<em>No</em>!” Gilbert says quickly. “As luck would have it, I happen to be stupidly in love with you too, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”</p><p>“It’s settled then,” Anne says softly, beaming up at him. “We’re stuck with each other."</p><p>Snow has begun to fall again, and Gilbert watches with rapt attention as she blinks away the snowflakes that land on the tips of her lashes.</p><p>A tiny gust of wind whips a loose tendril of Anne’s red hair in front of her face, obscuring Gilbert’s vision of her eyes. Carefully, he reaches out to brush the strands away from Anne’s face. He tucks her hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek with his palm in a way he’s only ever imagined being able to do when his eyes are closed and he’s fast asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Is this a dream</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>He’d meant to think it in his head, but the sentiment had slipped out of his lips instead, drawing a quiet giggle from Anne that rings out into the snowy night like music to his ears.</p><p>“If you’re dreaming, then I’m dreaming with you…” She says through a small smile, sliding a tentative hand up his chest until her palm is resting right over his racing heart. “And if we <em>are </em>dreaming…then I certainly don’t want to wake up until <em>after</em> you’ve kissed me.”</p><p>“We <em>definitely</em> wouldn’t want that…” he murmurs back.</p><p>It’s the last thing either of them says before Gilbert leans forward, tilts Anne’s head up, and captures her lips with his own. Their first kiss quickly turns from sweet to searing once he gets his free arm around Anne’s waist, and uses it to draw her flush against him. The heat of her mouth sliding deliciously against his own is a stark contrast to the the snowy night around them, and it leaves Gilbert feeling flushed and ready to shed a few of the extra layers he’d dressed in to keep warm despite the freezing temperatures of winter.</p><p>And as wonderfully intoxicating as it is to finally have Anne in his arms, kissing him back in a way that's far better than any dream he's ever had involving pressing his lips to hers, Gilbert can’t help the way he finds himself suddenly drawing back following a sharp pinch of pain to the side of his wrist.</p><p>He stares at Anne, half drunk off the taste of her lips, half in shock over the unexpected pinch of pain, only to find her grinning mischievously back at him. “With all this talk of dreaming, I just had to be sure you knew <em>this</em> is <em>real</em>.”</p><p>It takes Gilbert a moment to catch on to the fact that she’s the one who’d done the pinching.</p><p>“You’re really going to keep me on my toes now that I’m your boyfriend, aren’t you?” Gilbert marvels through a chuckle.</p><p>“<em>Boyfriend,</em> huh?” Anne says as she cocks her head to the side in contemplation.</p><p>He has the good sense to look embarrassed over assuming Anne would be so quickly willing to put a label on whatever it is they decided they were to each other, but she cuts him off before he can take it back.</p><p>“I’ve never had a boyfriend before— but it sounds nice,” she continues. “Does that mean I’m your girlfriend?”</p><p>“Do you want to be?” Gilbert asks hopefully.</p><p>“Yes…<em>I do</em>…” she whispers. “I really <em>do</em>, Gil.”</p><p>“Good,” he whispers back in relief, a stupidly delighted grin spreading across his face.</p><p> </p><p><em>Girlfriend</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It seems like such a simple word. Like too simple of a word to encompass what Anne is to him…what he feels for her…what, he thrillingly realizes, they feel for each other.</p><p>But as Anne leans in, pressing in close, hands coming up to tangle in his hair as she kisses him with so much tenderness it almost makes him weep, Gilbert comes to the conclusion that labels don’t matter. Not when it comes to them. Not when the love they have for each other seems to transcend the need for words entirely.</p><p>Over the course of their forever, he expects he’ll call Anne by more than a few labels: girlfriend, partner, lover, fiancee, wife, life-mate, soulmate…he has an inkling feeling that none of them will ever feel like enough— not when it comes to bottling up how much love he has for her, or how much space she takes up inside his heart. But as long as they both agree on the fact that they wholeheartedly belong to each other, Gilbert will happily spend the rest of his life calling Anne by whatever label she so desires.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I see all your rain kisses and raise you a kiss in the snow! (and arguably the cheesiest declaration of feelings I've ever managed to churn out-- which is saying a lot since all of my fics tend to end with a fair bit of tooth-rotting fluff!)</p><p>In all seriousness, I really hope that you all enjoyed following along on this story that I didn't intend on writing before I finished up a few other things!</p><p>As always, I would love to know what you thought-- long or short, your comments truly do mean the world, and I love reading and responding to each and every one, so thank you in advance if you choose to leave those and/or kudos!</p><p>Things in the world are a bit crazy right now, but I hope all of you are doing well, and that if you've been struggling from the weight of everything that's going on, this chapter served as a bit of an escape from everything. Sending you all much love!</p><p> </p><p>As always, in between updates you can keep up with me over on Tumblr @ <a href="https://xxprettylittletimebombxx.tumblr.com/">xxprettylittletimebombxx</a> OR (alternatively) via Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/ElaWithAnE">@ElaWithAnE</a>!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shout out to Elvis Presley's rendition of 'Are You Lonesome Tonight' for the line: do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare/do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there</p><p>I didn't base this story around that song, but thought it'd be a little too on the nose to have Anne and Gil talking about "You Don't Know Me."</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>